At Fault
by LadyofTimeandDeductions
Summary: He couldn't leave her. He wouldn't. Irene's sick and Sherlock thinks it's his fault. Slightly fluffy.


**My kind of Adlock fluff :3 Not super fluffy but I think it's fluffy enough for Adlock. I hope you guys enjoy! :D**

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><p>"Hey, man!"<p>

Sherlock ignored the man he just knocked into. He continued to run, using his long legs to its full extent. With adrenaline pumping through his veins, his mind quickly conjured up a map of the city. He zoomed in on it until he had an image of the streets of the area. After a few attempts of drawing up an alternative route for his escape, he finally found a way, around the alleyway at the corner a few meters ahead. From there he can lose them easily. As soon as he reached the corner, he suddenly turned into the alleyway, knowing the sudden movement would slow the men chasing him down. He followed the way until he got out to the other side where there were multiple shops. At the same time, a man wearing a cap was coming right up to him. A knowing smile crept into his face. There weren't much people but it was enough for his escape.

He innocently bumped into the man, muttering a small apology as his expert hands snatched the man's cap. He brought it down on his head. It was a good thing the gel held his curls firm or it would have exposed him to the men. The cap would slow then down but sooner or later they would figure it out. So he kept on walking until one of the stores was near him. A rack with jackets and coats was being rolled up to the front. _Perfect_, he thought.

As he walked to the rack, he dropped his wallet. Placing a hand on one of the coats, he bent over to pick up his wallet and went off with the coat in his other hand. He quickly slipped the brown coat on. It was incredibly tight. He rolled his eyes. Of all the sizes, he just had to get a size smaller than his. It did fit but he couldn't move much. It would have to do though if he wanted to return to his hotel room safely.

He managed to snatch up a map and pretended to be lost. He opened it up and tilted his head down so his eyes couldn't be seen. He turned around looking bewildered just as a lost tourist should. Clear. He was safe. He folded the map back and started to move. He needed to go back to the hotel. As he slipped the map into his pocket, he noticed the supermarket just across the street. He purchased a few items that would help him. The bag he carried out of the shop consisted of medicinal products.

After, he quickly made his way back to the hotel, slipping out of his disguise, taking off the ridiculously tight coat he had on. He pressed his hands over his trouser pockets. He frowned. He fished his hand into his coat pocket. None. Could he have dropped it earlier in his escape? When he intentionally dropped his wallet? Or when he knocked the man's cap off? How stupid. An idea passed in his mind. He could knock considering there was someone on the other side. He quickly brushed that idea away. Doing so would mean he lost to a little key card. Doing so would mean someone opening the door for him, _she_ opening the door for him. And he wouldn't want that given the condition she is in at the moment.

He pursed his lips. He checked his pockets one last time before making her get up and get the door. He could almost see the smugness on her face if she did, if she can. Relief washed over him. Inside his wallet was the answer to his dilemma, the key card. The beep called his attention that the door was already unlocked. Shaking his head, he slowly opened the door. His eyes immediately fell on the sleeping form on the bed. Chill air enveloped him as he entered the room. Quietly, he dropped his newly stolen things on the couch, his eyes never leaving _her_. He made his way to the bed on the other side of the suite. The sight on the bed made his chest tighten with fear? He denied that thought. It was most probably because of the adrenaline pumping through his veins with all the running he did.

She looked paler than ever, her skin as white as snow. Her lips were red, bright red. It was as though she was wearing lipstick like the first tine they met yet this time it wasn't lipstick. It was her body telling him that she lack water. But even though she was very pale, her face looked dark. There were dark circles under her eyes. She looked tired. With a steady hand, Sherlock leaned over, his hand hovering above her forehead. Slowly, his fingers came in contact with her pale skin. She was burning hot. He estimated her body temperature danced just a little below 40.

_Damn you, Woman._

He checked the time. An hour more before she needs to take the medicine. He's going to take a shower then. Along the way, he turned the heater on. He hissed as cold water splashed down on him. Today was a disaster. Something out of his calculations happened. It wasn't part of the plan to engage with the drug lord who was part of Moriarty's web. The plan was just to check on the drug lord's movement, if he was still in the city or not. But apparently the old woman beside him just had to choose that moment to have a heart attack. So a scene happened in front of him, drawing all attention in his direction and, of course, even the drug lord's.

He turned the knob to turn the water hot. A sigh escaped his lips as a light veil of steam filled the room. He would have gone off and finish the job alone but he couldn't. Of course, the thought crossed his mind. Once, he tried. After 16 hours of tracking his target, he returned to the hotel to construct a plan. He opened the door to find her on the floor with her back to the bed, her hand on her stomach. He thought she was asleep but she stirred as soon as he opened the door. He could see the amount of strength it took her to lift her head and look at him. He knew she attempted to get up and take care of herself. At that exact same moment, he knew he couldn't leave her alone. If he did, then she would die. Not of the scorching fever she had now but of hunger. It would be _his_ fault. He couldn't leave her. He wouldn't.

After drying himself up, he moved to sit at one of the couches. He had already tucked the things he had stolen in the cabinet. He could still use them except for the coat. Maybe The Woman could have it. His eyes shifted to the bed. It would be too large for her and now that she lost a lot of weight, she would get lost inside the coat. He consulted his watch once more.

27 minutes.

It started a day ago when she suddenly dropped down on the carpeted hotel floor. He knew it was his fault. He managed to blow their cover in Canada so they had to move south right away. Contacting an old client, they were able to move with a private jet. As soon as they landed, they moved to find a place to hide but their chasers were fast. They contacted their branch down at south to track them down. They didn't have time to settle down. The next two or three hours they were on the move again. He underestimated their target. He knew the man was the leader of Canada's most powerful gang but he didn't anticipate the size of their gang. They ran and ran with little food, stolen clothes and very little sleep. Their rest between travels only consisted of sitting but never sleeping because one second later they would be on the toad again, running and running.

He tried asking help from some of his older clients. People who are under the shadows. Turns out these people even fear the men chasing them. He knew he had no other choice but to call the last person he would call at times like this. He didn't want to do it but he knew if he did, their safety would be ensured. It did get the job done. Finally they started to settle down and plan for their next target. That was when the fever hit her. He found her one day, searing hot despite the cool temperature of the room. Of course, her body couldn't handle multiple days without sleep. He can but she can't. It was his fault. He should have considered her health. He should have been more observant from the beginning. If he did, then none of this would have happened.

_Ring! Ring!_

The sound pulled him out of his thoughts. His eyes brought him to his phone on the table. _Speak of the devil..._ He didn't need to look at the screen. He already knew who it was.

"What do you want, Mycroft?"

Sherlock heard a chuckle from the other end of the line.

"No need to be so hostile, dear brother. Can't a big brother ask if his little brother is well?"

Sherlock scoffed. "Just get on with it, Mycroft." It was time for her medication as well.

"I'm just wondering how you're doing, considering your..._friend's_ condition."

Sherlock could hear the smile in his voice. He rolled his eyes. "Stop wasting my time, _dear brother_. I have other things to attend to."

"Oh, does it involve doing something as sentimental as taking care of _her?"_

That was it. He turned his phone off. How funny of Mycroft to think that he was looking after her because of sentiment. He would have roared with laughter if it wasn't for the sleeping Woman in the room. He was taking care of her because he needed her. He needed her for his plan to wipe out Moriarty's web. As much as he wants to deny it, they do make a great team. He could do it by himself, of course, but having her would save him a lot of time. And the sooner he got back to London, the better.

He got up from his seat and poured warm water to a glass. The medicine was already on the bedside table. He slowly walked across the room to set the glass on the table and to sit on the edge of the bed. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he shook her lightly.

"Ms. Adler."

No response. He shook her one more time.

"Ms. Adler..."

She started to stir.

"Irene."

Her tired eyes slowly opened. He didn't have to say anything. She knew why he woke her up. She pushed herself to sitting position and looked at him with tired sleepy eyes. He was holding up the pill on his palm and a glass of water in the other hand. She could see his eyes, as cool as ever, but for a moment she swore she saw a flicker of...gentleness in his eyes she had never seen. Heat starting to spread throughout her body. It wasn't because of anything else but the fever, of course. She took both the glass and the pill from his hand.

After she saw his hand offering to take the glass, something in her heart swelled. She placed the glass on the table ignoring his outstretched hand. She could do such a simple thing. It wasn't as if she was paralyzed or incapable. She felt weak, her eyes hooded with sleep, her mind clouded by the heat, her body ached everywhere. Still, she knew what he did when he went out. She needs to _punish _him for leaving her behind. She tried to hide the smile creeping up her lips by dipping her head and pushing the blanket away. She stood, her legs threatening to give way, the heat starting to overwhelm her senses. No, she could do it. Her eyes settled on her destination, the bathroom.

She could feel his eyes searing on her back as she took one step at a time towards the bath. Halfway across the room, her knees suddenly buckled under her. For a moment before her eyes closed, she knew she was going to hit the floor. She already braced herself for the impact but a second passed and she realized it didn't happen. It took her a second more to realize the hand on her waist and another on her arm. And another second to open her eyes and see ocean blue eyes looking down at her. She could have stayed that way, looking into his mesmerizing eyes. But, of course, that was not Irene Adler. With all her strength, she pushed herself to stand on her two legs, missing the worry in his eyes.

"You should lie down." His voice echoed in the room.

She didn't say anything. Though pushing his hands away from her body gave him the answer. He just stood there watching her carefully as she wobbled her way to the bathroom. He saw that stumble as she entered the bathroom. He was just about to move when she closed the door behind her. He waited until he heard the sound of water running down the shower. He shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Stubborn Woman..." he muttered under his breath as he sat down on the couch, his hands steepled under his nose. His thoughts slipped back to their target in this part of the world. Moriarty's web is quite big. It reaches the four corners of the world, making it harder to dismantle for one man. So he needed all the help he can get, even from The Woman. His eyes fell on the closed bathroom door. She had proven helpful, especially in some cases that requires a more subtle and endearing way of approach.

The sound of the shower rung in his ears. He couldn't get his thoughts out. He frowned at the bathroom door. Showers is now a part of the list of things he hated. He thought it would stop when the shower died down. He was wrong. It only stopped when the door opened and she appeared beneath the doorway with a robe around her small figure.

He watched as she walked across the room, her arm reaching up behind her head, pulling the pen out of her hair causing her dark brown curls to cascade down her back. His eyes followed every movement, almost mesmerized, until her voice reached his ears.

"Tea?"

He realized she was standing by the pot, pulling out the cupboard. For a moment, he wanted to stand and tell her to go back to rest. He wanted to lunge forward and grab her by the arm and tell her to stop. He wanted to tell her _he _would make her tea instead...

The sound of something hitting the carpet followed by a hiss brought him back to his senses. The moment he saw what happened, his body immediately moved. The next second he was blowing on her burnt hand, ignoring the cup rolling by his feet. He couldn't see her eyes, he didn't want to either. Though he wanted to know what she was thinking. Suddenly, he became angry. Angry with himself. He should have helped her with that cup. He should have paid more attention. He already understood what her condition was and how bad it was. He could have stopped that and he _should_ have.

"Let me." The words left his mouth before he could even stop them.

He was looking at her and she told herself not to look. But with each passing second, her desire to also look grew until she just had to look. And there it was. That gentleness again. It baffled her to see such a look on his face. She had never seen that look nor had she imagined he would allow having such. She felt a gentle squeeze on her hand. Her eyes trailed from his eyes to his grip on her hand and back to his eyes. She realized he might have not noticed he was doing it.

Without saying anything, he tugged her toward the bathroom. She didn't protest either. He pulled the lid of the toilet down and opened the faucet. Slowly, he guided her hand towards the running water as she sat down. For 15 minutes, no words nor looks were exchanged. All that could be heard was the sound of water splashing down. But all that could be seen was...

Sentiment.

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><p>For the umpteenth time, a shaky breath broke his train of thoughts. It irritated him but once he looked at the origin of the sound, something burst inside him. This time he finally pushed his thoughts away. He would have plenty of time thinking when the time comes. Another shaky sigh and the next second, he was halfway to the bed. He touch her forehead with the back of his hand. A wave of relief washed over him. Still hot but not as hot as before.<p>

"Stay..."

He didn't respond. He just looked. A minute might have passed. Or _minutes_. He didn't know either. He just froze and all he could see was her pale face. And all he could do was stand and watch. That was until he felt a tug on his pants. He looked down to see her hand clenching on the fabric of his slacks. His eyes flicked back to her eyes, now open filled with an emotion he couldn't comprehend. Somehow it made him remove her grip on his pants and go around the bed to slip beneath the covers.

As soon as the bed dipped because of his weight, she rolled over and crept closer, close enough for Sherlock to count her long lashes resting on her cheeks. She pulled the blanket closer to her body. He felt her hand beside his. Her touch sent a chill down his spine. Her touch ignited a burning feeling inside his chest.

He heard a soft snore beside him. Once again, he couldn't take his eyes off her. She was still pale and still looked weary but it made her look more..._beautiful_. Her lashes hovered over the dark circles under her eyes. Her sharp cheekbones arched their way across her red cheeks. Her freckles exploded on her pale white skin like the stars on the dark night sky. Her dark brown hair waved down her shoulder, over the side of her fave like a waterfall of hair. He was tempted to brush them back to see more of her, to discover more of her, to _feel _more of her. It felt like looking at a painting and every time he looked at her, he sees something new, he sees something different. He could really look at her the whole day but soon sleep started to cloud his senses. Unconsciously, their fingers laced with each other. Unconsciously, a small smile danced on her lips while the sun moved down the horizon.

Sunlight hit his eyes. It stirred him to wake up. As his eyes cleared, he felt something was off. He felt something was missing. It took his mind several minutes to work and realize that he was wrong. It wasn't _something _but _someone_ that was missing. The realization fell hard on him. His heart almost skipped a beat. Did something happen? Where was she? He shot up and was about to call her name when he heard the sound of plate clinking down the bedside table. There she was standing beside the bed with a robe on, her hair dripped with water, her face tinged with color, her eyes void of the dark circles, her eyes as sharp as ever.

With a smile, she crossed her arms across her chest.

"Tea?"

He smiled back.

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><p><strong>I don't know if the ending was appropriate but it kinda felt right when I was writing this. And I can't really think of anything else other than this so... Please do tell me what you think! Reviews please!<strong>


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